


Stadium Seating

by minxy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1994265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxy/pseuds/minxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know my cousin Alex actually likes Coke floats better than root beer?  Kid’s nuts, but he always did sit with me at the top of the bleachers, so gotta give him that.”</p>
<p>or, Teal'c and Cam, courting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stadium Seating

Teal’c found it difficult to school his reactions to Colonel Mitchell into his usual impassivity; he also found it difficult to be overly concerned about it.

He had adjusted his position in the room twice to find an ideal vantage point and still permit Colonel Mitchell access to both the table and the refrigerator. He ended up nearly in the doorway, backing up as necessary to allow the refrigerator door its full range of motion.

“My mother was probably heartbroken when I didn’t choose this as a vocation, I’m that good,” he was saying, bending over and hiding his upper body behind the refrigerator door. Teal’c considered adjusting his position to better see all of Mitchell, then decided the view was acceptable. “Mind you,” Mitchell continued, head appearing suddenly above the top of the door, hands full of soda cans gesturing for emphasis, “I was only a soda jerk that one summer before Academy, anyway.” Teal’c quirked an eyebrow briefly. There was a certain unpredictability to the Taur’i, which they paired with an amazingly wide-ranging enthusiasm Teal’c still didn’t fully understand, though he’d seen it provoke a response anywhere from the briefing room to the battlefield. Mitchell grinned openly at him for a moment while resting the stacked soda cans he held two deep in each hand on top of the half-door. Taking a precarious grip, Mitchell then extended the lower fingers of one hand to also close the refrigerator door.

Teal’c placed a hand where Mitchell had rested the cans to assume the responsibility for securing the appliance. Mitchell raised his chin briefly in acknowledgment, and turned to carry his choice of beverages to the table off to the side of the room. Teal’c returned the gesture with a solemn dip of his head, allowing himself to imagine timing the push of the door to clip Mitchell’s backside with the beer shelf.

Colonel Mitchell, Teal’c believed, brought out rather childish impulses in him, though he was fairly sure he kept them well concealed. Teal’c’s outward participation in Colonel Mitchell’s antics was frequently unnecessary however, as in this instance when Mitchell’s grip on one of the four cans he was trying to balance failed. Teal’c watched with amusement as Mitchell deftly caught the errant container with a quick motion requiring a slight duck to the side, bend in the knees and gentle collision with the still open door. He paused for only a moment to make sure he’d caught everything before continuing as though there had been no pause in the conversation, “For years she'd take me there for one of these any time I came home in the summer.”

Teal’c was fairly sure that the traditional quip, according to American sitcoms, would have been something more along the lines of ‘thank you, I’ll be here all week,’ although O’Neill would have likely quoted the Simpson’s head of household. Mitchell’s self-confident antics were subtly unique, as far as Teal’c could see, and fascinating for both their lack of dignity and clear presence of skill.

Teal’c nearly smiled as Mitchell awkwardly dipped and twisted to place the can now cradled in his arms on the table without further incident, but while he had no particular feelings about carbonated beverages, he did not wish the most important of the ingredients to be treated with less than full respect. “Do you not require the ice cream now?” he offered, stepping silently forward into the room.

“Just the vanilla, though; anything else is sacrilege,” Mitchell agreed. Teal’c had been reaching for the nearest pint of something appealingly chocolate looking, but he reconsidered with the new information and instead lifted down the larger blue and white striped container. The sound of utensils clinking four times against glass accompanied his closing of the freezer door and turn to the table.

“We require spoons to drink a beverage?” he enquired, mildly perplexed as straws joined the spoons in each glass. “Does the ice cream not melt upon addition of liquid, Colonel Mitchell?”

“Not entirely, there’s this sort of crunchy outside around a hunk of frozen goodness,” Mitchell said, abstractly gesturing with one hand as he picked up a larger spoon from the table with the other, “although it does really help to have a hot day behind you to appreciate it, preferably with a good vantage point at a little league game, and I do not answer to Colonel Mitchell on my days off.”

A pointed gesture with the spoon and raised eyebrows was informal, but Mitchell looked at him for a moment longer than necessary. Teal’c found himself nodding with a solemnity he wasn’t entirely sure was appropriate as he inwardly marveled at the myriad ways the Taur’i named themselves. The progressively more intimate names required substantial concentration merely to remember the words, let alone understand the being behind them.

As if it were not gift enough to recognize an individual by more than his function.

An easy pause let them contemplate lonely ice cream in glasses with only spoons and brightly colored straws for company. A snap-hiss-fizz sounded twice to end the moment, and Teal’c noted the symmetry with which the two cans were raised, tilted and upended over the glasses in front of him. “This is the good one,” Cameron said, “so you can compare it to the everyday root beer, both of which are better than what they tried to serve you in the mess the other day.”

The two beverages, Teal’c noted, which were bizarrely non-alcoholic despite their name, had similar coloring as they ran in rivulets over the ice cream, fizzing madly and picking up the cream that had already melted, but the first settled into a slightly darker liquid after a time. Between one breath and the next, the ice cream dislodged from the sides of the glass rose to the top to float with the liquid’s bubbles, carrying the straw in the process to rest at a jaunty angle, as though it were a half-aimed staff weapon.

The third snap of a can exploded a fountain of dark bubbly syrup halfway to the ceiling; Teal’c’s eyebrows rose towards his hairline as the noisy spray landed with admirable comprehensiveness on Cameron’s face and shirt. Cameron’s run to the sink meant he turned his back and Teal’c was afforded an extra moment to school his features as the noise of the depressurizing can and the litany of mild curses leveled at it fought for dominance. “And it will rot your teeth too,” Cameron finished his insults as he wet a towel and wiped off his face. Teal’c considered his expression and allowed himself to smile for Cameron to see. Cameron grinned easily back and patted uselessly at his half damp shirt. “Guess that’s the one I almost dropped.”

“Indeed,” Cameron’s shirt was damp enough on his right side to cling to his ribs, but he didn’t seem to notice as he poured part of the only can of clear soda into the last glass. In Cameron's position, Teal’c would have taken advantage of the sleeping quarters and abundance of dry clothing just down the hall, but Cameron had spent most of the drive from the mountain impressing upon him his personal reverence for this tradition, and he seemed to be focused on his task.

“Right, start with these since they’re just for fairness' sake anyway.” He indicated the clear and exploded-soda floats, “And then we’ll get down to the real stuff.”

Teal’c had noticed a flaw in the plan of one spoon per glass if they were to eat from the same glass, and was counting the moments until Cameron noticed too and got up to requisition yet more utensils. Instead of getting up, however, Cameron just squinted, appropriated one of the other glasses’ spoons and messily sunk the ball of ice cream to the bottom of the glass attempting to retrieve a portion of it from the clear soda float. Teal’c considered Cameron’s technique, decided there was likely no way to be graceful about it, and followed his lead.

 

It was fitting that such a beverage would be Cameron's favorite.

The ice cream burst through the soda with sudden cold in his mouth, but it otherwise held little flavor. “Why is it required to use vanilla?” he inquired, privately favoring New York Super Fudge Chunk in almost all things, but not wishing to offend what appeared to be an important tradition.

“You’ll see when we get to the root beer, enough with the 7-Up anyway,” Cameron said, sliding the clear soda float a few inches to the side. “You can grab a pull of soda if you want, but I’d recommend against it due to the danger of brain freeze,” he added, with every appearance of complete seriousness.

Teal’c felt the next float, made with the exploded-soda, was painfully sweet; an opinion he had about a number of Taur’i concoctions that Daniel Jackson always insisted did not reflect the entire planet’s preferences.

“You good?” Cameron asked, in the same tone he inquired as to whether mission parameters had been achieved. “Moving on. You know my cousin Alex actually likes Coke floats better than root beer? Kid’s nuts, but he always did sit with me at the top of the bleachers, so gotta give him that.”

Teal’c had no response and pulled the first of the root beer floats to the center of the table in a gentle arc. He prepared to taste one as Cameron pushed the others carefully aside, risking dislodging the liquid from the glass by the rough handling. The ice cream was somewhat more melted in this float; however, as promised, a slight crust had formed on the edge of the ice cream that crunched, accompanied the fizz of the soda, very agreeably. Teal’c was most surprised, though, that the mellow flavor of the soda was much more substantial and varied than the previous two. He blinked slowly, the taste still lingering in his mouth. It brought out the flavor of the ice cream as well.

“See?” Cameron grinned, not having tried any himself and opting instead to watch Teal’c take his first bite. “Now you know what I’m talking about, but while this is good for your basic everyday summer barbeque, you should try the top shelf, all-star game quality stuff.” Teal’c narrowed his eyes slightly in concern that Cameron would not allow him to eat more than a single bite of any given concoction. However, Cameron was clearly enjoying himself and Teal’c resigned himself to the inevitable waste and rush. He did notice that the glass was allowed to remain within reach, which was consoling, while the other glass was merely forwarded slightly, with a mild rolling of the contents under the rim.

It was a strange sensation, to feel eyes on him, watching him taste an ungainly combination of frozen and merely cool, solid and liquid. Teal’c was briefly concerned that the dessert would be unpalatable and another Taur’i practical joke he so little understood, but the earnestness in Cameron’s gaze opposite him turned the concern to his own reaction, and once again stirred him to behave in a less than dignified manner. He settled on attempting to create a distraction and on sudden impulse, stuck out his tongue slightly to meet the half drops of liquid on the edge of his spoon, closing his lips around the implement with exaggerated care.

Anyone else and Teal'c would have stared them down, if indeed, he allowed their attention to become disconcerting.

He needn’t have worried that his admiration would be inadequate; the flavor was rich and sharp and he rolled the melting ice cream around his tongue to fully appreciate it, partly closing his eyes to better focus on the tastes. When he raised his gaze, Cameron wore a half smile, one eyebrow rising as he silently indicated the glass with a jut of his chin. Teal’c nodded slowly, and Cameron’s smile grew to a full grin as he reached for the straw and sipped. Teal’c took a moment to compose himself and consider whether he could transport top-shelf root beer to his son; he had already learned that ice cream was extremely difficult to transport.

“Can one truly procure a living creating this beverage?” he inquired while reaching for another spoonful of ice cream.

Cameron smiled and shook his head. “Nah, but my Mom talked about all kinds of careers growing up. Think she wanted me to consider not going military like Dad. Got her heart almost set on dentistry at one point; apparently I had a fascination with teeth as a baby, kept sticking my fingers in people’s mouths.”

Teal’c considered this as ice cream melted to the temperature of his mouth, and set down his spoon. “She did not wish you to be a warrior?”

“Well, she was the one left home, you know. I think she was worried about the danger, didn’t want me to feel obligated. Once went into this big speech about how I could fly a commercial airline if I wanted to see the world from the sky, or get a private license.” He studied Teal’c’s expression for a moment before trying to pin down the ice cream in the glass long enough to spoon a piece out and added, “I guess Jaffa are not really into variety in career opportunities so much.”

Teal’c watched of the shadow Cameron’s arm cast on the table shift and adjust as Cameron pulled the spoon from his mouth with an upward twist of the wrist. “Daniel Jackson and Colonel Carter have both also entered the same career paths held by their fathers.” Teal’c turned the statement into a question by tilting his head slightly.

“With subtle differences, but yeah, I guess they did. Probably for different reasons, though.”

“You believe it was a conscious choice on their parts.”

Cameron nodded. “You could ask them, of course, but I'd bet that they both considered other fields. What am I saying? They’re both trained in multiple fields, just kept an eye on what their parents had found important, I guess.” He lowered his eyes to the float between them as he asked, “Would you approve of Rya’c considering a different career than you chose?”

Teal’c met and held Cameron’s eyes as they tentatively roved over his face. “My son does not serve false gods.” He felt on the whole that he was content with the break in tradition.

“You don’t either, any more.” Cameron shifted his gaze to the glass in between them, and gestured with his spoon. “Ry’ac could do worse than follow in your footsteps.”

Teal’c didn’t trust himself to speak, but picked up his spoon again and clashed it lightly against Cameron’s in the glass as the last remnants of ice cream evaded capture. Eventually, they hooked the last bit against the edge of the glass and split it between them. “S’what I’m talking about.” Cameron murmured.

“As am I.” Teal’c said, quietly, pulling the other root beer float back towards the center.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to rydra_wong for the beta


End file.
